Tuesday, October 02, 2012

An average morning...


Gracie’s whiskers tickle my cheek; her purr so loud I can feel the vibrations through the mattress.  I open my eyes to meet hers staring back at me.  She is a full figured beautiful black cat.  Every morning she sits beside my shoulder and waits.  Purring, gazing, making biscuits, anticipating the moment I open my eyes.  I start massaging the scruff of her neck, rubbing beneath her chin, and then holding my fist steady so she can rub her cheek as hard as she wants sending her into a luxurious purring kitty trance.  I savor that moment we share together.  That simple moment cuddling, petting and being with one another.     
 YES! my big girl.   I’m getting up! 
I tell her and pat her on the butt.  She hops off the bed and leaves me be.   It is such a sweet moment.  Yawning and stretching, my body feels good today.  Rolling to my side, I feel my rock hard cock brush against the soft linen sheets.  Thank God for hormone replacement therapy, it has not only given me back my favorite toy but I no longer suffer from insomnia and night sweats.   Tucking a pillow between my legs, I retract to a fetal position sensing the cool soft fabric against the head of my shaft.  Tightly I curl up, holding and cuddling myself within the sheets.  Mmmm, It feels so good to be in my body.  I hesitate to move.  My mind wakes and fear sets in.   
What if during this night, the part of my brain that hemorrhaged 12 years ago, began to bleed again?   What if once I leave the comfort and sanctity of my bed I discover my right leg is paralyzed once more?   Then I get a grip and the optimist in me speaks. What if I get out of bed and stand tall on my own two feet.   What if I feel so good I decide to go mow my lawn.  I imagine the roar of the mower, the combined smells of grass clippings, gas fumes and sweat.  I love grunging up my yard shoes, sweating from manual labor and keeping the sun out of my eyes with a cowboy hat.  What if once I finish the yard I kick off those shoes and sit for a spell, swinging on the front porch, looking out at my beautiful gardens, trying to cool down.  That sounds nice, doesn’t it? 
But the heat is too much and I enter the house and walk fully clothed into the shower.  I am very hot, sweaty and covered in yard debris.  As the cool water passes over me I slowly peel off my shirt, shorts, and lastly my socks.  I stand there naked, cool water rushing over me waiting for some comfort from the heat.  Yet, I never cool down. 
I step out of the shower confused and dizzy.  I wonder what I have done.  Mindful that I just took a shower but uncertain of what to do next.  Instinctively I towel off but notice my hand has cramped up in a tight grip, my right cheek taut.  I stumble my way to the bed frustrated that I have done too much, been overheated and managed to trigger a seizure.      I reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and I drink.  Water makes me feel alive again; it cools me from the inside out, and washes down the extra pills I need to assure my safety through this episode.  Then I remember that scenario to be just a memory; a mere recollection from 2 weeks prior when I dashed outside to cut the lawn early in the morning.   All these tormenting images flash through my mind and yet I am still cuddling safely in bed with serious morning wood.   I really just need to pee.  
Just then Gracie jumps on my hip, claiming the side of body as a runway, she sashays up to my shoulder, purring, nuzzling, extending her neck so her wet nose tickles my ear.  There I am again.  In that moment. 

Alright, alright, Gracie.  I am getting up
.   
She jumps to the floor; I toss off the covers and scurry to the bathroom to relieve the pressure of an overactive bladder.    Ah, that felt good.  I stand naked facing the bathroom mirror.    You made it through another night, Kevin.   You woke up to see another day.    I pop back my medications, brush my teeth put on some grungy socks, torn up shorts and a ratty t-shirt.  .   Understanding the possible outcome, having experienced what often times does happen.   I grab my cowboy hat, head for the front door, slip on my grungy shoes and start mowing my lawn.  This morning I feel good.  This afternoon, we’ll see.  

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